


to see the sun in your eyes

by whim4short



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, i also love writing about coffee apparently, i wrote this while it was raining and i craved the gentle embrace of the morning sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whim4short/pseuds/whim4short
Summary: Osamu snorts. It's an ugly thing, objectively; it's been the subject of many a roast from Atsumu, but it still manages to make Akaashi's heart do a backflip in his chest.morning coffee in the Miya household.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	to see the sun in your eyes

The soft light of the approaching sun spills into the bedroom, providing much needed heat to places that have grown cool during the night. The stillness that can be found in mornings like these brings with it an unparalleled sense of calm, an unspoken promise that everything will be okay so long as it stays within these walls and between these sheets.

Akaashi has always been a morning person. The sun has always been a welcomed companion, and he found himself rising and setting with it naturally.

Today was no different. Akaashi savors the feeling of the warmth spilling across his face as he slowly wakes. The sun is brutal this time of year, inescapable and unwavering in the noon as it hangs in the air and sticks skin to clothes, but the muted heat of the dawn is a presence he finds comforting. 

Drowsy fingers slip up Akaashi’s side and come to rest in the middle of his chest. In all its magnitude, the sweeping intensity of the sun is nothing compared to the steady fire that the man beside him always manages to stir under his skin. 

Osamu’s hair is tickling the nape of Akaashi’s neck as he continues to snore lightly. His fingers are still splayed across Akaashi’s bare chest, and Akaashi has half a thought to interlace their fingers and hold him there. As much as he wants to lie here, soak up the feeling of Osamu at peace next to him as the sun gains confidence in the sky, he wants to take advantage of waking up before Osamu for the first time. 

So Akaashi slowly, reluctantly, pulls his body free from Osamu’s loose embrace. He can’t help but press a kiss to Osamu’s fingers before he lays them in his now empty spot.

The sounds of the coffee machine whirring to life fill the small kitchen. The sun hasn’t found its way to the room just yet, and the tile is cool against Akaashi’s bare feet. He hops from foot to foot as he pulls his favorite creamer from the fridge. Osamu always pokes fun at him for the way he makes his coffee, argues that the amount of sugar he uses makes it more like syrup than anything, but it never stops him from taking a sip from Akaashi’s mug every time. 

Akaashi hears Osamu slowly begin to stir as he pulls their matching coffee mugs from the cabinet. Well, they’re _supposed_ to be matching. They had planned on making identical mugs when Osamu pulled them into a pottery class on their last day off together. What they left with were wonky things, misshapen and deformed and barely capable of staying upright, much less holding coffee or any other drink that they were created for. Akaashi had loved them all the same, and Osaumu had grown so attached to the memory that he couldn’t bring himself to throw them out.

That’s how Akaashi finds himself balancing the contorted mugs against each other when Osamu pads into the kitchen five minutes later.

“Yer gonna break em like that, ya know.” Osamu mumbles, slotting behind Akaashi and wrapping his arms around his waist. Akaashi doesn’t have to look at him to know that Osamu’s dark hair is sticking up where it got squished in his sleep, but the thought still makes him smile. 

“Good morning to you, too, Samu.”

Osamu hums, pressing light kisses to the back of Akaashi’s neck. It sends zips up and down his spine, and he can feel Osamu smirk against his skin when he shudders. “Someone’s up early.”

Akaashi shrugs. “Wanted to make you coffee.”

Osamu hums again, letting his hand dip below the waistband of Akaashi’s pajama pants. His hand stretches across the bone of Akaashi’s hip, the silver band on Osamu’s finger cool against his skin. 

“ _Behave,_ Miya-san.” Akaashi chastises lightly, turning in his husband’s embrace and holding the mugs of coffee between them. Osamu sighs and takes his mug. 

“You behave, _Miya-san.”_ Osamu echoes. Akaashi can feel the tips of his ears beginning to burn at the name, and Osamu smirks. “I just wanted to show my husband how much I _appreciate_ him for making me coffee.”

“And everytime you do, _I’m_ the one that has to hear about how I’m making the owner of Onigiri Miya late for work again.”

Osamu smiles, pulling Akaashi closer by his pants and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Mornin’, Kei.”

“Morning, Samu.”

“Are ya makin’ me breakfast, too?”

“Don’t push it.”

Osamu snorts. It’s an ugly thing, objectively; it’s been the subject of many a roast from Atsumu, despite his sounding _exactly the same,_ but it still manages to make Akaashi’s heart do a backflip in his chest. 

Osamu takes Akaashi’s wrist in his hand, bringing Akaashi’s mug to his mouth and taking an experimental sip. His eyebrows crinkle and he immediately pulls away like he always does, and Akaashi can’t help but laugh at him. 

“Why do you insist on drinking _my_ coffee when you don’t like it? I made you your own so we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“It’s sweet,” Osamu shrugs, “like you.”

The sun has finally made its way to the kitchen, soaking the floor and the countertops and the men in a heat that’s just slightly bordering on too much. Akaashi basks in it, basks in the smile Osamu gives him before drinking his too sweet coffee again, basks in the love he has for the man in front of him. The emotions threaten to overwhelm him sometimes, filling up his chest and taking over every single corner of his mind until he feels ready to burst at the seams, but Osamu’s always there, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him as if to say _I feel the same._

Akaashi kisses him. He leans up and presses a kiss to his husband’s lips, trying not to smile too wide at the way his husband sighs and pulls him impossibly closer.

They stay like that, pressing kisses and whispers into each other’s skin, until Akaashi’s physically pushing Osamu to their bedroom so he can finish getting ready for the day. Osamu’s laughter rings throughout their apartment before settling in Akaashi’s rib cage.

_“Okay,_ Kei, _jeez._ I’m goin’!” Osamu laughs, letting himself be pushed to the front door.

“If I hear one more word about how I make you late-”

“I’ll make sure no one says anything, I _promise.”_ Osamu laughs, pulling Akaashi close and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wait up for me?” He asks, like it’s even a question. Like Akaashi doesn’t want to do that for the rest of his life. 

Akaashi looks at his husband, looks at the emotions so clearly written across his face and the warmth that could rival the sun in his eyes, and nods.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> early mornings + OsaAka = a v v self indulgent fic from whim :D <3
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> [come scream about hq with me](https://twitter.com/whim4short)


End file.
